Hugs, Drugs, and Friendly Spooning
by OnlyOneLover
Summary: Chris's suspicious no-show for a "man-date" leaves Darren more than a little concerned about his friend. Finding out that Chris is ill and bedridden, Darren decides to do all he can to make Chris's sore, stuffy, runny world a little bit brighter.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone!

So I had this fun, fluffy idea and finally decided to just bite the bullet, sit down, and write. I'm a big shipper of the CrissColfer friendship (and, in my dreams-in-which-Darren-is-a-flaming-gay, romance), and this is just a feel-good piece about our two lovely boys! It will be in two chapters. Hope ya'll like it, and as always, feel free to tell me what you think! =)

**Hugs, Drugs, and Friendly Spooning**

From deep within the warmth of his thick cotton blankets, a young man groaned melodramatically when he heard the buzzing of a cell phone on his bedside table. Unpleasant thoughts of reaching out from beneath his bedding and into the chilly bedroom air made him recoil even further, but eventually, he had to face the inevitable.

Blindly, he slid an arm off the side of his mattress and stretched it toward the nightstand.

The buzzing continued, and the twenty-one-year old (allowing his inner teenager to get the best of him) continued the search by moving his hand lazily around the cool wooden surface of the nightstand, refusing to expose anymore of himself to the air that had made his arm break out into goose bumps.

_Where the hell… _

His search became more frantic as he did not want to miss the call, and when he could not locate the device after the fourth or fifth vibration, he groaned once more, forced his heavy, aching head off of the pillow, and threw back his blankets, bracing himself for the light and cold.

On the upside, there was very little light for which one would need to brace himself; the boy's curtains were half closed. Just as well, the sky was dark with thick stretches of grey cloud.

The cold, however, had to be ground-breaking, especially for Los Angeles.

Valiantly trying to ignore the goose bumps that were rapidly spreading across his entire upper body, he picked up his phone and fell back onto the bed with the device at his ear.

"Hel…" just as he began to answer, a tickle at the back of his throat caused him to break into a series of coughs that sounded like the phlegm-filled dying gasps of a very sick puppy dog. He tried to breathe in through his nose, only to realize that his airways were all but completely obstructed. He sniffled and instantly regretted it as the obstructing substances of his nasal cavity were forced into the back of his throat.

He took a deep breath. Eyes closed in frustration, he tried again.

"Hello?"

"Holy… dude, you okay?"

"… Darren?"

"Yeah Chris, it's me… and you sound like a cat that got run over by a truck and is dying a slow death on the side of the highway…"

Chris rolled his eyes, but smiled grimly nonetheless. "Ha, ha…" he stammered through another series of unsoundly coughs. "How're you, Mr. Potter?"

"I'm fine, other than the fact that I'm sitting in front of Starbucks, all by my lonesome on a seven-AM-breakfast run that was supposed to be a romantic man-date."

Chris sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead. He could practically see the childish pout on Darren's face. "Damn it," he muttered, his voice, he noted, getting hoarser by the minute, "I'm really sorry, Darren… I just… slept…"

Chris held his phone at arm's length right in the nick of time, keeping it safe from contamination. He sneezed so forcefully that he felt his ears and sinuses ache as though he were on an airplane coming in for a landing.

Making a hoarse, exasperated noise (that Darren heard distinctly), Chris reached over to his nightstand and retrieved a box of tissues. He set it down on the bed next to him before taking one, forcefully and thoroughly blowing his nose, then crumpling it up. He aimed for the wastebasket on the other side of the room near his dresser but, as per usual, he missed.

A second exasperated groan led Darren's worry to heighten.

"Okay man, this is not cool."

"Seriously, I'll be okay," Chris said quietly, attempting to save what little voice he had left, "There's just no way I'm going to make it out today… I'm really sorry… I should have called or… or something…"

"Give me fifteen minutes."

"Wha…?"

The line was cut off, and Chris vaguely wondered what Darren had been talking about before his heavy eyelids fell and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The next thing Chris knew, two gentle hands with distinctly calloused fingertips were messaging his forehead, smoothing out the lines of discomfort. With a muffled cough, he began to open his eyes.

"… Darren?"

"Shhh… rest your voice, Chris."

"How… how did you get in, exactly?" Chris asked, dazed, confused, and genuinely curious.

Darren chuckled softly before reaching down to the floor and into his backpack, producing a bright pink karabiner that held at least a dozen different keys. Darren held the jangling mass of metal by one small, silver key, which Chris recognized as the key to his front door.

"Key-trade, remember? In case one of us dumbasses gets locked out of his house?"

Chris smiled amusedly. "Right, right," he remembered. "Well, good to know you're putting my trust in you to good… u… u…"

In record time, Darren grabbed four or five tissues from the box sitting on the bed and held them against Chris's nose and mouth, preventing any further contamination of their surroundings.

"Use," Chris finished weakly with a sniffle.

"God bless you."

"Thanks."

Darren gave him a comforting smile before crumpling up the tissue, standing up, and crossing the room to toss it into the wastebasket. He picked up and threw away Chris's earlier air ball as well, before picking up the entire wastebasket and bringing it over to Chris's bedside.

"You know you're going to get sick, Darren, and I don't think I can have that on my conscience."

"Nah, I'll brave it," Darren shrugged with a grin. "If I can improve your nothing-short-of-suckish situation in any way, it'll be worth it."

With that, Darren reached down to the floor and lifted two CVS/Pharmacy bags and a small, bright blue duffle onto Chris's desk. He bent down once more and produced a brown Panera bag as well.

"Oh my… Darren Criss…"

"I don't want to hear a reprimanding word out of your mouth, Colfer," Darren snapped playfully. "Now if you'll allow me…"

Darren unzipped the blue duffle bag and reached inside, pulling out what appeared to be a folded quilt. Looking quite proud of himself, he began to unfold it. "Now," he said, holding the quilt up for Chris to see its design, "Nothing says 'get well soon' like a flannel Harry Potter blanket. Am I right?"

Chris could not suppress a smile as he thought to himself; _Only Darren Criss would own a flannel blanket that sports the Hogwarts crest, Latin phrases and all._

"As much as I want to argue and tell you to get the heck out of here before you catch the contagion, I have to admit: _that _is a thing of beauty."

"I knew you'd come 'round." Darren moved to Chris's side and spread the blanket over his goose-bump-covered body, tucking it snugly around his sides.

"How're you feeling?" Darren asked in a more serious tone, sitting down on the mattress as he adjusted the blankets, allowing Chris to sink a little deeper into his bed.

After a few sniffles, to which Darren attended by offering Chris another tissue, Chris answered glumly, "Like death wrapped in a sore throat."

Darren winced. "Any aches, pains…?"

"Every muscle in my body… or so it feels."

"Well, I brought some Tylenol and some Benadryl," Darren said, retrieving one of the plastic CVS bags and sitting back down on the mattress, "and it's like, ridiculously cold out there, so I turned the heat up on my way in. That should kick on in a little while."

Darren reached into the bag and began removing its contents one at a time: Tylenol, Benadryl, a bottle of water, a plastic spoon, a pale blue washcloth, a canister of vaporizing chest rub, and lastly, a thermometer.

"Darren?" Chris began as his friend unpackaged the thermometer from its plastic case.

"Mmhm?"

"Thank you."

Darren paused and looked back into Chris's eyes.

"Thank you for coming, and thank you for everything you're doing," he continued, softly yet hoarse as ever. "You honestly don't have to be here, but it means a lot that you are."

Chris could have sworn that Darren's cheeks became just the slightest bit pinker than usual right before he smiled warmly and responded, "You're welcome."

The two young actors were silent as Darren finished unwrapping the thermometer. After cleaning it quickly with some water and a tissue, Darren brought the tip to Chris's lips and quietly ordered, "Open up."

Chris obeyed, allowing Darren to gently slide the metal tip beneath his tongue. Chris held the device between his lips for a few moments while Darren disposed of the plastic bag and untwisted the cap of the bottle of cold medicine.

Glancing at the thermometer, Darren murmured affirmatively to himself before carefully removing it from Chris's mouth and examining the reading.

"Holy…"

"Bad?"

"101.3, man."

Chris gasped, but it came out as a series of throat-searing gags. _"What?"_ he croaked.

"This is a high fever, legit. If you reach 102, we're going to have to get you to the ER."

Sighing in frustration, Chris brought his hands to his face and began to massage his heavy eyelids.

Darren just pressed his lips together for a moment before finally proposing what he considered the most sensible course of action.

"So, how about those drugs?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for all of the story favorites and subscriptions, guys! I'm really glad you all like the story so far. Here is chapter 2!**

**Hugs, Drugs, and Friendly Spooning – Chapter 2**

"There's one thing I just don't get," Chris said hoarsely as Darren helped him sit upright so he could administer the medicine. "I'm having chills, and yet my temperature is nearly three degrees higher than normal. How does that make any sense?"

Darren simply raised an eyebrow and laughed in agreement. He carefully poured the syrupy red liquid from its bottle and into the plastic teaspoon. He gave Chris the normal dose of three teaspoons before resealing the bottle and setting the teaspoon back on the nightstand.

Chris retrieved the water bottle from his nightstand and took a few sips before slumping back down into his pillows. Looking up at Darren with a grim smile, he whispered, "Thanks for the drugs."

"You're welcome for the drugs," Darren retorted with a laugh.

For Chris, the next forty-or-so minutes had him feeling quite improved. Ironically, very little of his apparent improvement had to do with the medicine. Some of it did, surely, but it was mostly due to the power of distraction.

And of course, a powerful does of optimism a la Darren.

The sustenance hadn't hurt his condition, either. And thanks to the fact that "man-dates" were rather common for the two friends, Darren was well-aware that Chris's favorite soup was French onion and his caffeinated drink of choice was Earl Grey. Naturally, Darren had also selected a soup for himself (chicken noodle, to be exact), and sat pretzel-style on the mattress by Chris as they slurped and talked, Darren reminding Chris to save his voice when he got too excited about a few choice topics (_Elektra_ and Pottermore, to name two).

Between the heat in the house kicking on and Chris finishing up hot cups of soup and tea, Darren was sure keep a close eye on Chris's temperature. Luckily, by the third time he had checked it, it had wavered a tenth of a degree lower.

At Darren's tender touch, however, his forehead and back-of-the-neck still felt unnervingly hot. Pushing Chris to lie farther down until he was flat on his back, Darren went into the bathroom and wetted the pale blue washcloth with cold water. He rung it out and returned to Chris's bedside, where he proceeded to apply cool pressure to Chris's flushed cheeks and feverishly warm forehead.

"So," Chris began quietly as Darren continued to sponge his forehead, "If you weren't here nursing me back to health, what would you be up to on this miserably cold, grey morning?"

Darren shrugged. "Besides breakfast with you, sir, I don't know. Nothing, really. Probably would've just gone home. I'm working on some songs. Also brainstorming about what I should do for Mia on her birthday."

"How's that going?"

"Eh, I've got a few ideas. Oh," Darren added when Chris smiled mischievously and raised an eyebrow, "You mean in general?"

Chris nodded, and Darren moved the cool pressure to his neck.

"It's all right. I think… things are sort of changing. She's changing… I'm changing…"

"Do you feel like you're growing apart?" Chris asked, his eyes sad, and slightly worried.

Darren sighed. "A little bit. I feel like it's starting, you know? But I was never under any illusion that she and I were going to last forever. I love her – don't get me wrong," he said, his eyes wandering, "But I have this promise that I always make with myself when I go into a relationship: accept the fact that it will end someday."

Chris gave Darren a look of surprise.

"What?" Darren asked.

"You're usually just so optimistic."

Darren laughed. "Well, it's not really pessimistic if you think about it: if you accept it early on, you'll appreciate the relationship all the more, you know? And when you find the one that _does _last forever, it'll be all the more amazing."

"I guess I see the logic in that, yeah," Chris smiled.

Darren moved the washcloth back to Chris's forehead. "Enough about me," he smirked. "Dare I ask about _your_ love life?"

Chris tried to keep a straight face, but in a matter of seconds he felt his face burning, and not because of the fever. When Darren got that mischievous gleam in his eye, Chris averted his gaze but felt his lips curving into a timid smile.

"Busted…" Darren grinned.

Chris covered his mouth to stifle a few coughs before sighing in defeat and admitting, "I met someone," with a smile.

"Did you, now?"

"I did," Chris blushed. "He's the cousin of one of the crew members who helped out on _Struck by Lightning," _Chris explained in response to Darren's questioning looks. "He's an aspiring screenwriter, so he came to set one day, and we got to talking, and he was so… passionate. About writing and film and everything, so I told him to come back any day. He did, and we kept talking, and…" Chris sighed, his cheeks bright pink and his eyes alive and bright (despite the glassiness and dark circles beneath them), "We've been close ever since. Nothing's official yet, but the more we spend time together, the more hints he sends me."

"What kind of hints?" Darren asked, enjoying this giddy, excited, slightly embarrassed side of his friend.

"The little things," Chris smiled, the hoarseness of his voice unable to mask his happiness. "He likes to cook for me, but says he likes it even more when we cook together. We're both currently reading _The Hunger Games_, so he had this idea that after every five chapters, we get together and discuss. He's always finding ways to get close to me. He'll brush my hair aside when it's in my eyes, he'll start massaging my neck when I get wrapped up in my writing, we'll fall asleep together on the couch watching a movie at night…"

Chris paused when he realized that Darren was positively beaming. "What?" he asked, still blushing.

Matter-of-factly and without hesitation, Darren stated, "You're head-over-heels."

And there was not a word of denial. "I really, really like him."

"I'm happy for you, man," Darren said.

"Thanks… ugh, if I asked to take the Tylenol like right this second, would that make me like, an addict?" Chris moaned, scrunching up his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose to suppress what Darren assumed was a headache.

"Best to wait a little while, I think," Darren said, placing the washcloth back on the nightstand. When Chris gave a quiet groan in response, Darren grinned, "But there're these other things I could give you…"

Chris raised an eyebrow, suspiciously. "… And what might those be?"

"I'll give you a hint: rhymes with 'drugs.'"

"Please don't say-"

Before Chris could finish, Darren had kicked off his shoes and thrown himself onto the bed, enveloping Chris in a tight, one-armed, sideways hug.

All Chris could do was stammer amusedly and give Darren a baffled smile.

"Now tell me you don't feel better."

Chris sighed. "That's beside the point," he chuckled as Darren's embrace only tightened. "The point is that the more time you spend with me… not to mention this _close_ to me… the more of a chance there is that you'll catch this too…"

"Oh, hush. Like I said, I'll brave it. Because you're worth it," he smiled.

Sighing in defeat, Chris ceased all attempts to push Darren away. Smiling mischievously, he turned to look at Darren and teased, "Are you just afraid that the new vitality in my love life is going to put strain on our on-screen relationship?"

Darren laughed aloud before reconstructing his face to assume a look of sadness, nodding and whining quietly. When Chris laughed, Darren did as well, and then teased, "But I'm sure he's not as cute as Blaine…"

"Oh, of course not. No one's as cute as Blaine. Well, except Kurt, of course…"

They laughed through poking fun at themselves once more, but no sooner had Chris broken into another violent coughing fit. Darren squeezed his shoulder tightly through it, and soon enough, the coughing died down.

With one hand splayed over his heaving chest as one last cough escaped his mouth, Chris panted heavily and reached for the bottle of water.

"You okay?" Darren asked, giving his shoulder one more squeeze, then releasing it from his grasp.

Chris took a few sips of water and then replaced the bottle. He nodded in response, looking sideways at Darren and giving him a look that Darren interpreted as "yeah… more or less."

"I shouldn't have encouraged you to talk at all," Darren said, apologetically, "I'm sorry."

"Oh my gosh, Darren," Chris said in a hoarse whisper, not wanting to strain his voice anymore than he already had, "Do not apologize for one single thing. You've helped me so much already, I can't even…" Chris finished by just shaking his head and smirking.

Darren smiled back. A few minutes if silence passed between them – a comfortable silence.

"Maybe you should just try to sleep for a while," Darren suggested as they lay side by side, Chris sneezing, wheezing, or harshly attempting to clear his throat every so often. "You know, just see if you can sleep it off."

Slowly, Chris nodded, agreeing that seemed to be the best option at this point. Smiling weakly, Chris whispered, "Okay. Thanks, Darren."

Chris shifted around for a moment, trying to find a comfortable position. At last he found a comfortable spot with his back to Darren, half his face nestled into his pillow, and his arms tucked in to his chest.

Darren smiled to himself and tucked the blankets snugly around his friend before lying back down behind him. It was then, as he watched Chris resting there, breathing softly, that something occurred to him.

For a straight single guy, there's something wonderfully comforting about having close physical contact with a girl, even if she's just a friend; even if the guy and girl have no desire to bring romance into the picture. For Darren (while flying solo), there was always something so calming, so soothing about lying his head in a friend's lap and letting her stroke his hair, about sitting on the couch and pulling a friend into a tight embrace, allowing her to rest her head against his chest…

There was a certain contentment found in physical contact with someone, someone who you _could _be romantic with, but chose not to be.

Darren knew for a fact that Chris didn't have many close friends who were gay males, and felt a pang of sadness in his heart when a thought occurred to him: the comfort of physical closeness with someone who was no more than a true, honest friend (and, as was probably preferable Chris's case, a male friend) was probably something rare in Chris's life.

That's when Darren got an idea. True, he was straight, but due to his being open-minded in nature, he liked to think of himself as at least being Kinsey One.

He slowly lifted the blankets and slid beneath them, then scooted his way over to Chris until he was right up against his back. Just as he felt Chris stirring and beginning to murmur curiously, he snaked an arm around Chris's waist and pulled their bodies into a snuggly position of comfortable spooning.

With his front side against Chris's back and his arm around the boy's waist, Darren could feel him chuckling confusedly before asking softly, "Darren… what on earth are you doing?"

Darren grinned, even though Chris couldn't see him, and responded, "Well, boys and girls who are just friends spoon all the time. Why shouldn't boys and boys?"

Chris clicked his tongue at Darren's typically Darren-like behavior, then said both comically and sincerely, "You're a rare breed, Darren Criss."

Darren responded with a cheeky "Why, thank you."

"No," Chris said softly, with honesty, "Thank _you._"

In response, Darren tightened his embrace affectionately before kindly whispering, "Get some sleep."

Chris hummed a quiet sigh, then let himself drift away, sinking contentedly into Darren's warm, comforting embrace.

**Thank you so much for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated – you guys always make me so happy with your kind, generous feedback =) Happy new year!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Last chapter ya'll! Thank you so much for all of the support! It's very nice to know that you guys can appreciate the CrissColfer friendship-ship as much as the romance-ship =) Reviews are welcomed and appreciated! **

**Hugs, Drugs, and Friendly Spooning – Chapter 3**

Darren wasn't sure when or how he knew for certain that Chris had fallen asleep.

He had been holding Chris as he rested for a good bit of time, thinking about nothing in particular, when suddenly he became aware that he had, somewhere along in his train of thought, decided that Chris was sleeping.

Which, incidentally (as confirmed by Darren whispering his name and then learning over to get a better look at him), turned out to be true.

The sudden urge to make a decision came upon Darren as he pondered whether or not Chris's being asleep meant he should leave him to his rest or stay and continue to watch over him. Before he could give it much thought, however, he realized that there wasn't any hurry, and decided that he could stay a while longer.

Moving slowly and quietly, he pulled himself up and sat with his back to the headboard. Despite his cautiousness, Chris stirred and, still fully immersed in sleep, turned himself around on the mattress so that he was facing Darren.

Comfortingly, Darren ran his fingers through Chris's thick, sleep-mussed hair.

As time continued to pass, Darren kept thinking. He thought about Mia and everything the two of them were going through. He thought about relationships in general, how messy they could be, how much heartbreak they could cause…

He looked down at Chris, all nestled into the pillows next to his lap, sleeping soundly. If there was one thing Darren had wanted most for Chris since the day they had become so close, it was happiness. Not just regular, living-a-good-life happiness, but happiness in a relationship. As one of the few people (and in some cases, the only person) that Chris confided in when it came to his personal life, Darren knew that Chris had never really had a steady boyfriend. He had dated, sure, but nothing ever became long-term. Chris pretended he didn't care, but around Darren, he had confessed that he cared more than he let on around the rest of his friends.

Darren hoped, with all of his heart, that this charming, dreamy, future-film-making guy (whose name, Darren realized, he didn't know) would turn out to be someone as compassionate, honest, and deserving of love as Darren knew Chris was.

Darren smiled to himself.

After a few more moments of musing, Darren made a mental note to ask Chris what the guy's name was… _So I can look him up on Facebook… which is _not_ creeping_. _It's not _creeping _when you're doing a background check on the guy who's about to start dating one of your best friends… _

"Darren?"

"Mm?"

Darren quickly glanced back down, only to see Chris stirring slightly, eyes still closed.

"Darren…" he mumbled into his pillows, "you still here?"

"Yeah, Chris," Darren responded, lips curving into an amused smile, "I'm right here."

A minute or so passed, and Darren was just beginning to think that Chris had fallen back to sleep when he groggily allowed his eyelids to open.

"You know you don't have to stay," Chris murmured, smiling tiredly up at him, "I'd understand if you wanted to head home, get some work done, or something…"

"You trying to get rid of me Colfer?" Darren teased.

Chris laughed quietly into his pillows. "You could stay here all day if you wanted. It's nice..."

"What's nice?"

Chris suppressed a sneeze, and then cleared his throat a few times before saying, in a small voice, "Not being alone."

Darren twiddled his fingers in his lap. Not taking his eyes of his hands, he smiled. "I'm glad."

Another comfortable silence filled the room, just for a few moments.

"So," Darren finally said, stretching his arms then grinning down at Chris, "any fun ideas on how we can pass some time?"

To no one's surprise, "fun ideas" on how the two could pass time turned into a no-rule, no-score game of Questions/Never Have I Ever. It had pretty much become the go-to game for the Glee gang, traditionally played during every social gathering, co-ed slumber party, and, naturally, during any down-time on the set. As the gang got to know each other better and better over their years of being a TV family, the questions seemed to get exponentially more invasive… usually thanks to people like Mark and Chord… but even the shyest members of the group had to admit: the more invasive the questions, the funnier the game, and, in the long run, the closer the gang became.

"Okay, my turn," Darren laughed, face still slightly red from having just admitted to Chris that yes, he _has _read the entire Samantha series of _American Girl _books (somehow, the fact that he read them to his younger cousin didn't make the situation any less embarrassing, or eliminate the fact that _yes, _he _did _enjoy them), "Have you…" he thought for a moment, massaging a spot on his collarbone before finally coming up with a question, a particularly devious grin spreading across his face as he asked, "Have you ever had a one-night stand?"

Chris sighed and put a hand to his forehead, then chuckled softly before musing, "You know, I'm really surprised this hasn't come up already, considering Mark's affinity to ask questions of the sexual nature…"

"Are you beating around the bush here..?"

"Oh, hush." Chris stifled a few coughs behind his hand before turning so that he lay flat on his back, hands holding Darren's Hogwarts blanket to his chest.

"Just one," he said, staring up at the ceiling as he did.

A couple of seconds passed, and Chris redirected his gaze from the ceiling to the man sitting next to him on the bed. Darren met his gaze, and just smiled curiously as if to say, "Well, go on."

"We were both a little drunk, not going to lie," he laughed, "But the funny thing is, it wasn't nearly as… serious, I guess… as one-nighters are, notoriously. He came home with me, we started to… you know, make out. After a while, things got a lot more… heated… but we never… we didn't…"

The two made eye contact again, and Darren nodded, indicating to Chris that he understood. Additionally, though, he gave a questioningly look, and Chris continued.

"I'm not sure why, exactly," he explained. "When we woke up the next morning, recovering from the alcohol and the heat of the moment, we actually talked." Chris laughed quietly to himself at the memory. "We got out of bed, casually dressed, cooked breakfast together, sat down over pancakes and talked."

"No way," Darren murmured, listening intently.

"Right?" Chris absentmindedly massaged a spot on his collarbone, and Darren vaguely wondered if he had picked up that habit from Chris or if it was just a coincidence before Chris continued again.

"We talked about a lot of things – jobs, family, general life – before we actually talked about what had happened that night. Turned out he was a lot like me: happy, but lonely. Also like me, though, he realized (even in a drunken state) that it wasn't full-on sex that he wanted. Just a person to lie with, who he could hold, and who would hold him back, just for one night. I told him I had wanted the exact same thing, and I thanked him for giving it to me. He thanked me too, and the rest is history."

Chris smiled to himself at the memories, and then finally turned to look at Darren, who looked fascinated, charmed, and bewildered all at once.

"I never thought I'd hear myself say this," he laughed, "but that must have been one romantic one-night stand."

Chris laughed as well. "It was kind of romantic, in its own way. He was sweet. It was nice to meet a guy who really, sincerely respected the fact that saving it is important to me, you know? I just… it has to mean something… you know?"

"If that's not worthy of respect, Chris," Darren said, finishing softly, "then I don't know what is."

Chris blushed a bit, smiling. "Shall we… continue?" he finally offered with a laugh.

"Sure," Darren said, placing a hand against his patient's forehead and then to the back of his neck to check his temperature, Chris eyeing him amusedly as he did so.

Just as Chris piped up, ready to ask his question, however, Darren interrupted him.

"Oh, wait! I have to ask you something."

"Mmhm?" Chris waited.

"The guy who likes you," Darren said, "The screenwriter. What's his name?"

"His name is… wait, why do you want to…?"

"Oh, no reason…"

Chris eyed him suspiciously before muttering, "Why do I have a feeling this is going to involve _Facebook_…?"

"Wha… how did you know?" Darren gasped, incredulous.

Chris just laughed, "Because you're _so _the type."

Darren stammered in disbelief, "What, the _creepy _type?"

"No!" Chris laughed, suppressing a few coughs, then patting Darren's arm comfortingly. "No, not at all," he explained. When Darren still looked concerned, Chris smiled kindly and finally said, his voice soft, "The protective type."

Darren opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't think of anything to say. Eventually, his cheeks slightly pink, he just beamed, glad that Chris knew just how much he cared for him.

Chris gave Darren's forearm another affectionate squeeze, letting Darren know that he cared for him as well – more than he could ever put into words.

**The end! Thank you all for reading, you've all been fantastic with feedback! Hugs to you all! **


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